Leather Pants and a Smirk
by DCFanatic4life
Summary: It started with a touch, an accident, it ended with a smirk...Jericho/Steph...One-shot


**Disclaimer: I do not own the people or characters portrayed in this story. The characters belong to the WWE and the people own themselves. This story is rated M for a reason. It does contain adult situations so if you're underage, turn yourself around and go read like...any other of my stories. :P  


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**A/N: So I just felt the urge to write and after seeing some videos of Chris and Steph, this was begging to be written. It's a one-shot and well, I hope you like it. It's...not my usual stuff, it's...dirtier, I guess you could say. But if you like it, let me know in the form of a review! Thanks!

Enjoy! :)

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It all started with a touch.

It was an accident, barely even a touch, really, but it had happened and thrown his mind off kilter. Chris Irvine was a good man with a good life, a great wife, beautiful children. He'd never, not for one moment, entertained the thought of another woman entering his life. He was surrounded by beauty, but never had the thought invaded his brain. He lived according to the rules and he was perfectly fine with that, it had not steered him wrong in his near 39 years and he figured it would help him sail through the rest of his life.

Then he touched her.

It was next to nothing and yet, maybe it was because it was the latest of many touches, he'd never be able to understand it. His hand had just brushed her hair, very softly, almost imperceptibly. There was something about being in the ring that magnified everything for him. When he was out there, it felt like he could hear every scream, every clap, he could feel every slight jostle of the ring, and he could certainly feel the softness of her hair underneath his fingertips.

It was a simple gesture, an accident, but it had thrown his mind into something of a frenzy. No, that was too hyperbolic of him. He just couldn't banish the thought from his brain. He'd grabbed her head before, multiple times actually. The first of his recollection, her hair had been curled and just generally a mess, not as soft as it had just felt. Nor did it feel the same the other time that he immediately thought of, when it had been crimped and hair-sprayed into oblivion. This time, her hair felt soft and the way it framed her face was a way he was not used to seeing.

He and Stephanie McMahon-Levesque were not friends. They were colleagues at least, acquaintances at most. He'd heard the rumors swirling about them, but didn't understand them until that touch. Could they see something he didn't? Did they see something in Stephanie that he couldn't? He had never entertained thoughts of them together, knowing he had a wife at home who loved him. He had never entertained the thoughts of another woman, period. But maybe because he and Stephanie worked together so much, people thought and whispered and rumored about the two of them.

That had been last week though and spending time with his wife and kids had settled down the cacophony in his brain. He'd banished the thought of her and the touch from his mind. Colleagues at worst, acquaintances at best. When his wife had asked how work was the day he got home, he'd said nothing out of the ordinary because there _was_ nothing out of the ordinary. He'd touched her on accident and that was that. He was married and so was she. They each had kids and he was just pumped from being in the ring. He could've touched anyone and maybe he would've felt the same.

Leather pants should be outlawed and banned.

So should tops with buttons unbuttoned.

And especially smirking, dear God, those should just be struck from the record of human history.

What he thought was just a touch was more. There was a feeling rising up in him that he couldn't explain. He'd spent plenty of time around her, had _kissed_ her twice (albeit for theatrical purposes), and this was what undid him? A touch was going to be his downfall, a pair of leather pants his highway to hell, some cleavage his demons, and a smirk the devil? This was what was going to completely unhinge Chris Irvine from everything he had ever ascribed to?

Looked like it.

He could tell she was having fun and it warmed him. He liked this feeling. He liked making her try not to laugh. What was _wrong_ with him? What was happening to him now? He'd worked with her before, yes, worked with her for so long and _now_ he was having these thoughts? It didn't make sense to him in the slightest. What had changed for him? A simple touch, that was it?

Or maybe this was the dam breaking. Maybe his hand remembered every, single time it touched a part of her and stored it away. Maybe his eyes captured a moment of her smirk or her smile and tucked it away in some faraway memory back. Maybe it had collected and collected and waited until just this moment to make everything different. Maybe this was the moment where everything changed and broke and fell apart.

Maybe they'd always been on a collision course.

He was backstage pacing, waiting for Vince to get kicked in the head by Randy. He needed to talk to her. She'd tell him something, he'd ask about her kids, she'd say how happy she was, how happy she and Paul were and he'd be done with it. Now that he was thinking rationally, to be on a collision course, she'd have to be coming towards him as well, so now he needed to reassure himself that she was standing still. It couldn't be a collision course if she wasn't in on it. Then it would just be him crashing into her and her bouncing off and spinning around and anger.

He didn't even see Randy kicking Vince, his pacing was so frantic. There was commotion as the people who were supposed to help him went out there. Still, he paced, figuring out his words, figuring out these feelings. He couldn't figure them out at the rate they were flying into his brain. Could it have been he'd always secretly (even to himself) been falling for Stephanie? Could it even be called falling? What was this he was feeling?

He heard her screeching voice before anything else. She was in character and had to be screeching for her father to be alright. As soon as she was backstage, she ceased her screams and helped her father off the gurney he had been lying on. He'd taken the neck brace off and she'd given him a hug for a job well done. Then she congratulated Randy for the job well done and making it look believable. Her eyes searched the crowd around her and settled on Chris and she pushed her way over to him.

"Good job out there, Chris. The fans somehow hate you even more for that, you're an awesome heel," she told him.

"Thanks," he croaked out. She looked at him a little funny, shrugged, patted him on the shoulder, and walked back over to her father, who escorted her down the hallway.

His shoulder burned from the contact. Maybe she was the devil, or a demon, sent to tempt him and lead him down the path of destruction? Or maybe she was a Siren, singing him to his doom, not that he really wanted to hear her sing. He was so busy staring he almost didn't feel another hand on his shoulder, but this didn't burn him to the skin or really give him much feeling whatsoever.

"Hey, Chris, you were awesome!"

Chris turned to the bubbly blonde. He mustered up a smile. He'd kind of taken Kelly Kelly under his wing a bit since he'd arrived. One her end of things, however, the feelings ran a little deeper. He could see it in her eyes any time they were together. She liked him. There was no other way of putting it. He was old enough to be her father; he'd have been a teenaged father, but still, old enough to be her father. Plus, she looked like his wife, why would he want second best, when he had first best?

Or was Jessica even still first best?

Now that was a silly thought. Yes, she was obviously first best. Stephanie, be gone from his mind. He was a married man, a _faithfully_ married man. He'd never strayed, never wanted to stray. So why were thoughts of Stephanie flitting through his brain? He was just being crazy now. He would go home to Jessica and everything would be fine. He'd play with his kids and laugh and smile and things would be fine. Stephanie would go home to her husband and kids and she'd be fine and they'd continue with their lives.

"Chris, are you listening to me?"

"What?" he asked.

"I said there's this like, metal band playing in the next city we're going to, I've never heard them play, but someone else said they were good, do you want to go?"

"Um, I'll think about it and get back to you."

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Well, that's okay."

"Yeah, sorry," he told her, but he wasn't really. Sometimes this girl could be so naïve.

"It's okay."

"It doesn't mean I can't."

"Of course," she said, but she was still disappointed, like a child was disappointed when you told them they couldn't go to the toy store. He had been nearly an adult when this girl was born, did she really think he'd want to go back and relive his twenties? He was having a great time now, he didn't want to go back there.

"I'm going to go," he said, breaking up the tension. He didn't mean to be curt with her, but his mind was on leather pants and smirks.

He walked down the hallway and away from the non-temptation of Kelly Kelly and towards the obvious temptation of Stephanie McMahon-Levesque. When he reached her door, it was almost calling out to him, the knob extending like a warm handshake, beckoning him to twist and open the door. He was a fool and took a step closer and a step closer and then like magic, the door opened in front of him and his hand wasn't even on the knob yet. It was like it somehow knew.

Or that Vince McMahon was just walking out.

"Chris, great job out there," Vince said, slapping him on the shoulder. It didn't burn. "Did you need to speak to Stephanie?"

"Uh huh, yeah," he said, suddenly feeling terrible for having thoughts about this man's married daughter. "I'm glad you liked my work tonight."

"Always do," he said, "always do."

Then he was gone and the door was open, though not magically, for him to enter. He did so slowly. Stephanie was at her desk, just gathering up some things, presumably on her way out since the show was over. Any work could be saved for later and surely she could finish it in other places than a drafty arena. She looked up as the door clicked to a close and her eyes fluttered for a moment before she settled on an easy smile.

"Hey, Chris, what can I do for you?"

"Were you leaving?"

"Yeah, I was. Don't really want to stay. I stayed last week and ended up getting the lights shut off on me. It was not fun having to call up someone to tell them to turn the lights back on."

He laughed, was she always this charming? "That's too bad."

"I figured this week I'll just go back to my hotel room and finish my work."

"Smart," he said, then cleared his throat.

"You have something on your mind," she stated astutely.

"How could you tell?" he asked.

"Well, you just cleared your throat for one," she laughed. "Plus, I know the look on your face."

"You know how I look?"

"I'm kind of aware of how you look, yes. We've only worked together for…how long has it been now?" she asked, drumming her fingers quietly on the desk. "Subtracting those two years where you decided you were too good for us."

She was joking and he laughed again, "Well, I had to figure things out."

"Figure that everything leads you right back to here?"

"I guess."

"So what's up?"

"Do you like me?" he asked and he felt like a 5th grader.

"Yeah, you're a very nice guy," she told him, just as she got her things together and started to lift them up. "You're one of our top performers. I like working with you again too. It's always been fun, I think we work well, don't you?"

"Yeah, so uh…" He was trying to remember his plan, "I noticed your girls aren't here tonight."

"Yeah, they're with Daddy tonight," she told him, "Kind of nice to get a night off, am I right?"

"I know what you mean."

"You've got three, of course you do," she laughed and tossed her hair back and away from her face. He swore the smell of kiwi hit him like a baseball bat to the face. "You want to walk me to my car?"

"Sure," he told her, wondering if she could sense that he wanted to talk further.

She walked to the door and then stopped. Chris didn't know why until he realized he still had his back against the door. She looked at him, waiting for him to open it. Years worth of tension and touching and looks and smirks and smiles and sneers and screeching and verbal abuse and chemistry bubbled to the surface for him and before he could think about a wife and kids or her husband and kids, he was leaning forward and kissing her and there was no depth to this kiss, it was simply lip pressed tightly against lip and then suddenly two sets of eyes widening and two bodies pulling apart.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry," Chris said, feeling so incredibly stupid and yet…what was that feeling down near his toes, was that, was it a warmth spreading, climbing up his body like slow-moving ivy?

She stared at him for a long moment and took deep, panting breaths even though they hadn't even kissed for that long. She searched his face, his eyes, everything and he let her because he didn't know what to do. He, a married man, had just kissed a married woman. That was cheating, oh dear God, that was cheating. He was a cheater. He was a dirty cheater and he was never going to forgive himself.

The descent to hell had begun.

"I'm sorry, I'm so…I'm so sorry," he stumble over his words and stumbled for the door. Her soft hand stopped him.

"Why did you do that?" she asked him.

"I don't know…I do know," he said, not lying. "I just…"

"Yes," she prodded. It was then he noticed.

"You want this," he told her.

"I do," she told him quietly.

His words came in the form of his lips again on hers. She dropped her bag to the floor where it landed with a thud, but neither one could really hear. She fumbled for the lock on the door and turned it, making sure it was locked and they were alone. If they had been listening to anything, they would still be able to hear people on the other side, cleaning up, leaving, going about their business as Chris's tongue tasted Stephanie's mouth for the first time. Despite popular belief, there had been no tongue in their previous two kisses.

Not like now, when his tongue wrestled with hers. He could feel himself already starting to get a rise from the action and they were only kissing. His hands were on her jaw, holding her head in place, desperately kissing her. She was desperate too, her arms trying to wrap around his neck. Finally, he pulled her closer and she was able to band her arms around him, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. They probably should've talked about this, but there were no words, just soft, insignificant sounds. They made out for a while and Chris wondered if this would go any further. He was almost scared to let this go further. Maybe they could just make out and be done with it.

Except her hands were pushing off his jacket and with a swoosh fell to the ground. Then her hands were on his chest and he pulled away to help her unbutton his shirt. As he was undoing each button, she was leaning up and kissing just under his jaw. It was like she just knew what he liked. She was kissing faster than his hands could work and she smiled against his skin as she unconsciously helped him along, doffing him of his shirt and leaving his topless. She started kissing down his neck, stopping to lick up his skin. Her tongue was hot against his skin he grasped the back of her head to pull her body against his.

He could feel her shirt against his bare skin and decided that turnabout was fair play and started getting at her shirt. He was much quicker with her buttons than he had been with his own. It must be the thought of her body that was prodding him along. Two weeks ago, he'd never even thought of Stephanie naked, but now the prospect was so tantalizing and he almost _needed_ to see her naked. They were still by the door, the sounds outside were dying though, but the sounds inside were growing louder.

"Hurry," she told him, panting deeper and harder now, her voice one he had never heard from her lips before. It was huskier, filled with desperation and want.

He tried to hurry, but his brain was muddled. If it was in turmoil before, it was in absolute chaos now. Out flew all rationality, out flew his wife, his kids, the normal life he had led for all these years. The only thoughts flowing in were how to get her clothes off faster, how to get her to the couch, and how to get inside her. He could only imagine she was thinking the same thing with the urgency behind her voice. Her shirt was off and she was just in his bra and he didn't want to do this standing up, though the thought of pressing her against the wall and pounding into her was a tempting one. Everything about Stephanie was tempting right now.

He kissed her again, his hand tangling in her hair and he thought back to that innocent touch. Her hair had started all of this. He twirled them around towards the couch and he was glad she wasn't a regular wrestler or else they'd be trying to do this on the ground. He pressed her down to the couch and laid on top of her. She welcomed his body over hers and they continued to make out in earnest, the outside world might as well have been foreign to them. They were too engrossed in one another to care about anything outside the heat cocoon they were creating.

She grabbed at his belt and he wanted to stop and think a moment, but his mouth couldn't seem to form words. He had graduated to moaning and grunting in approval, but words escaped him. There was no thinking, no planning, nothing. There wasn't anything except heat and lust and skin on skin. Her eyes were a smoky gray, like a foggy morning. He stared at them as she undid his pants. Their eyes were locked on each other, as if to remind the other that they were with each other. Words could come later, looks were deeper right now.

His belt undone, she pushed his pants down to his knees. He pushed them down the rest of the way, leaving him in his boxers. If the leather pants undid him earlier, they were completing unwinding him now and leaving the pieces in their wake. His skin against her pants were enticing him and he needed what was beneath them so he took them, but took them off slowly, relishing the way they felt underneath his hands. They seemed to absorb the heat from her body and she was sweating so it took a bit of effort, but he got them off and left her in her bra and panties.

He wanted the bra off.

She seemed to know this from just his face as he eyed her breasts and she arched her back to unclasp the offending piece of clothing. She threw it to the ground and he ogled her. He just outright ogled her because she was beautiful. He'd always had a thing for breast implants and Stephanie sure had them. He'd made fun of them before, but looking at them now he could kick himself for that. They were gorgeous and she was gorgeous. Her hair was fanning around her face and she looked like she was born to be looking up at him like that. Where had these feelings sprung from? But more importantly, why had they stayed dormant for so long?

He leaned down and started lavishing her chest with kisses. He went down the middle of her chest and between her breasts, careful not to go right for them. He wanted to tease her and she moaned in disapproval as he kissed her stomach. His hand came up and grabbed her right breast, testing the weight and noting forever how smooth her skin was. There was not an imperfection to be found from his roving hands and he traveled northward again to her neck. She didn't need to say please to let him know that she was desperate for it. The need was shooting off her in waves.

He decided to end his teasing, not for her benefit, but for his own because he wanted to taste her skin. He kissed down again and his tongue circled her right breast as his right hand continued its soft ministrations with her left breast. He stopped on the underside, licking underneath and caused her to laugh softly from the prolonged contact. He was tickling her skin. He came up again and took her nipple in his mouth and rolled it around in his mouth. She arched up against him and he stared up at her.

Her eyes were closed and she was gasping. She loved this, it was plain to see, and he was loving the way she tasted. She used body wash, he could tell, and the scene of her perfume was mixed with the musky odor of her being. She smelled fresh and ready and willing and delicious all in one. His right hand gravitated from her breast to parts lower and he loved the fact she wasn't wearing a thong. She was just wearing regular cotton panties and he loved that she wanted comfortable over showy.

"You're beautiful," he told her and he realized words used to compliment her were ready and willing to burst from his mouth, words of sense on the other hand, were gone completely.

She just moaned in response because his fingers had found the place he was destined to reach. They entered her slowly, to allow her to accommodate him, but she was already completely wet and he slid in easily. She gasped and arched again, her breath becoming stunted and she whimpered as he went deeper. She could surely feel him against her thigh and she pulled him away from her breast to implore him.

"How long?" she gasped.

"What?" he asked, not thinking coherently. What did she want?

"How long, this…how long?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "How long with you?"

"Too long," she whispered as her eyes burst open when he hit a spot inside of her. "Now, Chris, please."

He didn't need any words to respond to that and he pulled her panties off quickly and she pulled his boxers down as fast she could. There were no pleasantries as he entered her and a shared kiss was the only communication after he was inside her completely. He slowly withdrew and then repeated his gesture and he hadn't even needed to prepare himself. He'd only needed her, only her.

She smirked up at him as he found a rhythm and her nails scraped his arms as he kissed her feverishly. The arena could be empty for all they cared. They were so in tune at this moment, one being, one breathing in the other's breath. They were moving as if one, lips breaking apart and finding skin. He kissed the space between her ear and her jaw, she kissed his chin. Everywhere, lips on skin, skin on skin, him in her, on her, over her.

It built and built and built until the dam that wasn't in his mind broke. She begged for it, he gave it. He wanted it, she let him. They were moving so fast their bodies a blur and he whispered in her ear, wondering if it would be okay and she didn't care and she nodded and he responded with a groan and she let out a keening whine that he stifled with his mouth.

Where they'd go from now, he didn't know and neither did she. It had been almost too good. From a touch to this. A touch led him to this and he was still joined with her and he didn't want to move and it wasn't because he couldn't, it was because he didn't want to. Tomorrow they could maybe go back to who they were, they could go back to their normal lives, but for tonight, they were something else entirely. Maybe tomorrow they wouldn't go back to their real lives. Maybe he loved her, maybe she loved him.

Maybe…maybe…maybe…

"You look good in leather pants."

She smirked.


End file.
